


The lakes

by RiotPunch



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotPunch/pseuds/RiotPunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A time of war has descended. looking for a way to show the people what is really going on, you tell the UNSC to bite you and head into the capital. The belly of the beast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The lakes

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Red vs. Blue or any related properties. that's the amazing people at Roosterteeth!

You were not born out of conflict, Agent Ontario. Your parents had you when they still lived in  
Canada. The place you still think of as home. You were an angsty pre-teen when you moved off  
planet.

There was a time of peace. A time when humanity took control of it's own destiny to walk in the  
light of distant stars. You went to school for photojournalism. You wanted to tell the stories of  
people.

You waited for your big break. It came.

The covenant ravaged your adopted home. You were with one of the few non-state media  
outlets. Your parents begged you to go with them. You stayed. With the assurance that they  
would be safe, you continued telling the stories of the people trying so desperately to save their  
homeland.

When the local military, and even the reinforcements the UNSC sent in became overwhelmed,  
they showed up. You had never seen then or heard of them. None of your colleagues had,  
either. You heard whispering's of a name. Freelancer. You ignore the UNSC's gag order. You  
didn't give a shit anymore. They had lied about the situation. You wanted, no, needed to show  
the people what was going on.

You wait, and wait for your chance. You hang around with some military friends to try to get  
something, anything, That would get you the information you needed. You succeed.  
You and your colleagues get ready. The standard press flack jacket of yesteryear are  
abandoned in favor of a light civilian variant of the SPARTAN's Armour. You send one last letter  
to your family.

You make the trip to the capital. The hours long trip from your office in a "safe" zone give you  
time to think. Think about the time before war. Think about what you might be running into. You  
dive further and further into the conflict zones. You called in some favors for this one.  
You make it to the capital's outskirts. You have to walk from here.

Your group moves into the city centre, to take a look at the parliament buildings. They are in  
tatters. The politicians had gone long ago to be with the UNSC. Most of the east wing is gone,  
along with a chunk of the main building. The clock tower, the "peace" tower, is still standing, but  
as a shadow of it's former self.

As you move towards the financial district, you start hearing movement. You have a basic HUD  
that tells you mostly about where you are, lighting, and previews the pictures you take. You are  
a photographer after all. You almost took out the motion trackers when you were configuring the  
thing. You are suddenly glad you didn't.

By the time the rest of your group sees it, you are glad you decided to take some "precautions".  
You take your pistol out and deliver the 9mm slug to the Elite that has jumped out. It drops to the  
ground.

"EVERYBODY FIND COVER!" You yell. You spy a open door to a plaza. You direct your team  
in.

In the rush to cover you don't have time to think about the fact that you have never killed  
anything before. All you are thinking about is how to keep your team safe. They are  
defenceless. It was policy to not bring weapons on assignment.

The Elites follow you in. You direct your team to cover. You guess you may as well die doing  
something worth while, so you turn and take on the first one.  
It was not expecting that. You drop it with ease. Where you got these combat skills is up for  
debate. But not right now.

On the second one, you no longer have the element of surprise. You try for a shot. You miss  
high and right. Try again. On the second try, your pistol jams. The Elite is closing in. He has  
figured out that you are fucked.

The Elite yells something you don't understand. He charges you. You are, at this point a  
distraction. You yell to your team. "RUN! GET OUT!". you flip on your helmet camera. You may  
as well record what's happening. You set the files to send automatically.

The elite is closing fast. With everything set, you figure you may as well be the best damn  
distraction you can be. You grab your k-bar from your thigh. You told the others it was a "utility  
knife"

You swing. You make contact with the beast's right leg. It swats you and sends you flying across  
the lobby. Mid-air, you say into your mic, "good bye, mum and dad." You hit the ground. Hard.  
Your HUD is now in full medical alert mode. Flashing red, and beeping. Just in case you didn't  
know you were just thrown across a room and are now on the brink of death.

You send the video to your server. It is now uploading all you are seeing. And what you see  
doesn't scare you. It should, but it doesn't.

You see a 900 pound elite warrior striding towards you. Logically, you shouldn't have got up. But  
you did. You stood up to face your death. You yell. You actually yell the motto of the home you  
left so long ago. You suppose it's fitting.

You don't shut your eyes until you only have about 3 feet between you and the bringer of your  
death.

You guess at the speed the elite if walking, you have about 2 seconds. Two seconds that allow  
you to reflect upon your life.

You also know from your experiences in TV how long a second feels. You at first guess maybe  
your brain has made it feel longer. But, you hear something. You hear armored feet running.  
Wait.

You open your eyes to see a sight that you never though to expect. A person in full body armor,  
SPARTAN armor. Actually, it looks like a variant. But you don't think about that. You don't really  
think at all. Your brain is just too busy trying to process what it's seeing.  
The would be Shepard of your death, being stabbed for what looks like good measure, on the  
ground. The figure turns to you.

"Who are you?" They ask rather demandingly, but you guess it is suitable being in the situation  
your are in.

"Ay... Gr... Associated..." Was all you managed to get out.

**Author's Note:**

> ok, so I've been putting off posting this for a while, and may have been really tiered the day I wrote this. (I think it was the day before my first exam). anyways, I hope to continue this! any feedback is always welcome!
> 
> as for the title, we'll get into that later.


End file.
